


Night-Time Visitor

by Silent_So_Long



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 13:45:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are visited by a certain trickster god one stormy night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night-Time Visitor

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've ever written a story quite like this in all the years I've been writing, so I'm hoping I've done the style justice.
> 
> This also marks the first het story I've written in years too. hmmm.

The night is hot against your skin, as you slowly shift from sleep into wakefulness. The humidity causes sweat to prickle against your skin and you shift against heated sheets to find a cooler, more comfortable patch. You find that your coverlets have long since fallen to the floor, thrashed there by restless movements whilst sleeping, yet you do nothing to retrieve them. Instead, you lay where you’ve come to rest, head almost fallen away from the pillow, limbs cast akimbo against sweat damp sheets.

Far outside the house, up, up into the night-dark sky, you can hear the sounds of thunder rolling through the heavens, peals of loud noise that seem to shake your house where it stands. You draw one hand up your body, shielding your eyes from the bright glare of the lightning as the bright blue bolt streaks across the sky and the window. You shift and turn in restless weariness, feeling the promise of sleep tug behind your eyeballs again, yet sleep itself proves hard to come by. The storm is too loud, too bright against your senses, thunder and the force of the rain against the window too noisy, lightning too bright and shepherding dreams from your sleeping mind’s eye. 

You sigh and open your eyes again, and it takes only but a moment, as though from one second to the next, to know that you are not alone in the room. You feel the weight of as yet unseen eyes upon you, gaze travelling down your body and setting every nerve ending on fire. Your mouth curves up into a smile before you know it, and you turn your gaze to the window, instinctively knowing that that is where your night time guest will be. After all, that is where he always is when he arrives. 

You let one arm drift towards the side of the bed, movements languid and heat drugged, as lightning flashes across the sky again, as though trying to unzip the stars from above the rain-dark clouds. In the brief flare of impossibly blue light, you see him, his shadow writ dark and slender against the backdrop of the window, there and gone in but an instant. Your smile grows wider and you wriggle your fingers towards him, gesture intended as an open invitation. 

He slinks forward, every movement feline graceful, and carefully monitored. You feel your skin pimple with excitement at that movement, tread so familiar against the thickness of your carpet. He draws nearer still, fingers dipping down low to stroke across the open expanse of your palm as he stops beside you. Instinctively, you shiver, body arching up against nothing, as his gaze rakes you again. Even though you are still wearing your nightgown, it feels as though the sheer cotton is not there at all, exposing your body to your visitor, and you sense that he likes what he sees. 

He leans down, long hair brushing against the sides of your face as he kisses you, mouth soft and slightly chill against your own. Your eyes close as you respond, one hand rising to snarl through his hair, soft and darker than the night that surrounds you. His hand descends upon your breast, and you yield beneath him, back arching up against him as he softly strokes you. You moan into his mouth, the first sound you’ve yet made since your visitor arrived, a pleased sound, a note that begs more and an end to sudden torment. He draws away and that familiar voice is welcome to your ears, soft and purring yet somehow louder than the very thunder of outside. 

“You waited for me,” he says, words a statement more than a question. 

“Always,” you reply, lazily, as he sits upon the bed beside you. “Always for you, Loki.” 

Loki sighs then, a soft sound that makes his shoulders rise and fall beneath the weight of his tunic, yet he doesn’t immediately move, doesn’t immediately do anything at all. You reach out for him, wondering silently if anything is wrong, yet he turns, smiling down upon you, teeth caught in glimmer-shocks with the brightness of the lightning streaking across the window once more. Thunder crackles through the air again, so loud as to rattle the glass in its window-frame, as rain threatens to batter the very mullions from the panes. 

Loki lifts your hand without taking his eyes from your face, his lips a gentle caress against your knuckles, a kiss that somehow reaches deep down inside you and makes you shiver with need. You sigh, a whispering moan that makes Loki smile again and that sadness of before has gone, replaced by gleeful mischievousness instead. You lick your lips, wondering if that night’s games are about to begin, as Loki’s hand travels to your breast again. You lay one hand over his, trapping his fingers against you but for an instant before your hand falls away again. You want him to undress you, strip you naked against your own sweat stained sheets, to cover you with his body despite the heat and to claim you as his once more. 

You can’t remember how long these nightly visits have been going on, or even quite rightly when they started, yet you welcome them every time. Loki has proven himself a surprisingly tender lover, lips and fingers cooling, soothing, calming against you as your bodies align and release is to be had. 

The bed shifts beneath his weight as he stands, bed-frame squeaking slightly even with that one slight movement; you watch as his clothes fall away, a silent, slow strip that does more to tease and to tantalise you than sate. You sigh, always enjoying the sight of him caught in the cold flicker-flame of the lightning, lean curves that speak more of power than muscles ever could. Every movement is lithe, designed to be lethal or loving, dependent upon the mood of the wielder; you are glad that you see none of his lethal side and all of his tender one. 

The bed dips again as Loki sits naked beside you, fingers rising to stroke through the dampness of your hair, caressing the strands away from your forehead. He bids you sit with one soothing movement and you obey, swinging your legs over the side of the bed until you’re standing. He watches as your nightgown falls to the floor, eyes roving over your body, gaze unseen in the darkness yet felt all the same. It makes you hungry, shivery, yet slightly frightened all the same, as though the need is too much to bear, too much for you, just too much.

“Sit,” Loki commands, voice still pitched low, and seeming to envelop you in silken softness. 

You shiver and do as you are bidden, returning to your wanton position upon the bed. He reaches down between your legs, sending silver-moon sparkles of want through you as he strokes the pads of his fingers against you; he knows you are ready for him with that one touch. You almost beg him to do something, yet you know that you should never beg Loki for anything. Loki always takes what he wants when Loki is ready.

Instead, you remain mostly silent, save for the odd whispery muffled moan that shivers through the darkness to fall upon Loki’s listening ears. His fingers tease you, stroke you, send your back arching and your toes flexing against the sheets, tormenting you with pleasure so strong it almost hurts. You hear him chuckle, as his hand finally draws away, and you hold your breath, waiting for him, waiting for him to take you and to claim you.

Loki’s weight against you is surprisingly heavy considering his slenderness, yet you wrap your legs about his waist all the same. You feel his chest brush against your nipples, lips descending upon your jaw to trace kisses against your skin, teeth nipping at vulnerable neck and earlobe until he moves round to your mouth, tongue teasing to lick its way inside your mouth. You accept him; you always do and you’re still kissing when he eases inside you with a groan that vibrates through you to your core. You arch up into him as he starts to move inside you, hand finding your up-flung wrists and pinning them to the pillows above your head. You’re held, a willing prisoner, as your body reacts to his, hips rising to meet his as he slowly thrusts into you.

You feel your climax coiling in your lower abdomen, fizzing and sparking and pricking like so many needles, holding there as Loki slowly makes love to you. Your breath comes hard and fast, gasps interspersed with the odd cry that gets lost amidst the sound of the rain and the thunder. Loki quietly says your name and you arch against him, feel his need as he continues to pleasure you and draw pleasure from you in turn.

You can feel his desperation coiling through him, the way his thrusts quicken and grow slightly rougher, slightly ever more erratic against you as he draws nearer to his time. You feel your release leaving you, washing through you to tighten you against him, loud cries racking your body as you achieve climax. Loki is lost above you, shuddering against you as you pull him under into his own release. 

Finally, he rolls away, leaving you sated and lax upon the sheets, yet he doesn’t move too far. His presence is close by, surrounding you, and you reach for him, one hand shoring up against his slender chest, rising and falling rapidly beneath your palm. His hand is a cool weight against your own, trapping your fingers over the space where his heart lies beneath; you wonder if that was by design or by accident. Neither of you speak, nor do either of you move for quite some time; instead, you lie in sated silence, until Loki moves to claim you once more.


End file.
